


When the Wolves Come Out to Play

by BleuBombshell



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Secrets, Shapeshifting, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleuBombshell/pseuds/BleuBombshell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is a doctor, an ex-military man with PTSD, and he's also a werewolf. Sherlock is also wolf, but wait, that's not quite right...</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Wolves Come Out to Play

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-beta'd and un-britpicked so be patient with my idiocy.

"Are you a wolf's mate?" John said, standing in this man-he'd-just-met's laboratory. 

John himself was a werewolf, and a pretty high-class one at that. All wolves were upper class of course, having slowly taken over the government and the politics of the world in the years passed. Only John was also a doctor, so he was highly respected in his community as well as the general populace of humans. 

He had recently decided he didn't like living on his own in an expensive flat, or in a big empty house, but he didn't really know how to go about looking for a flatmate. Having been in the military in the past, and suffering from a limp and PTSD, he'd figured no one would even want to live with him.

Then a few days later, John happened to see his old friend from medical school, Mike Stanford, one day when he was walking in the park enjoying the spring air. Having a chat on a bench with him, John mentioned his musings on looking for a flatmate half-heartedly, not expecting Mike to be so enthusiastic about John coming with him to meet someone who apparently expressed the same thoughts to Mike just that morning.

John was standing here now in a laboratory in Bart's, where he went to medical school, but he was instantly put off by the smell of this man. The tall, dark-haired, pale man smelled like a wolf, but lacked the distinct smell of being a werecreature, he simply smelled wolf, as if he was from the wild. Concluding he could probably be a human who was mated to a werewolf, not entirely unheard of but a bit uncommon, he'd voiced his internal question before being able to stop himself.

Steely blue-green eyes looked up and raked over John's nervous form, and ignoring the question, provided his own inquiry. 

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

An instant look of bewonderment now lay across Johns features. "Afghanistan, but how did you know?"

Looking as if he was used to such questions, the pale man responded monotonously. "I didn't know, I noticed. The way you carry yourself says military, you have tan lines on your neck and wrists, suggesting you haven't been purposely tanning, no one tans with a long-sleeved shirt on. Military, hot place, had to be either Afghanistan or Iraq."

"Amazing. Absolutely brilliant." 

"Really?" the first emotion to grace his face other than boredom presented itself in the form of slight confusion. "That's not what people normally say." 

The doctor had a hard time believing that. "You're kidding. What do people usually say?"

A slight bit of amusement flickered across the mans sharp eyes. "Piss off."

Someone shuffled a bit awkwardly and both John and this strange man looked to where Mike stood, they'd both forgotten he was in the room. 

Looking back at John, the man introduced himself. "I'm Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221b Baker Street, you should meet me there this afternoon. I play violin, some say 'erratically', and sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Will that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." he put the beaker he was holding back down on the table and made a move to get up and grab his coat. "Now I must be off, I left my riding crop in the mortuary." 

Before Sherlock could open the door, John persisted. "Okay, now how did you know anything about 'potential flatmates'? Mike called you, he had to."

Pausing for a second, Sherlock looked at him as if the need to explain himself was tedious. "I had just told Mike earlier that I was looking for a flatmate and now here he is right after lunch with an old friend. Obvious." The black-haired man dashed out in a flurry of fabric as his coat bellowed out behind him.

John looked over at Mike who was standing there grinning. "He's always like that."

Later that day, John went by to check on his sister, a recovering alcoholic, still contemplating the man he'd met earlier that day. 

Maybe he was just a weirdly smelling werewolf, he did seem a bit eccentric...


End file.
